TCOT Desperate and Deceptive Divorce
by startwriting
Summary: Why, oh why did Della Street not come to Paris with Perry in TCOT Desperate Deception ? It seemed so unlogical. Was it? A gentle chapter 1 posted, 17/10.
1. Prologue

_Why, oh why did Della Street not travel to wonderful Paris with Perry Mason and Ken Malansky in TCOT Desperate Deception? I can't agree with the common explanation that she was afraid of flying. _

_Something else must have been going on. _

_OldEnglishD found time to beta this in her extraordinary ways. Thank you, D.!_

_**Prologue**_

All alone now, Kenneth Malansky sat still, looking at his hands laying on the table, palms up, as if there was a book in them and he was reading it. But there was no book.

There _was a story_. Definitely. But there was no book, only four words he had just taken in, four words uttered by a very low, deep voice, igniting a story in his tired brain, a little hazy from the red wine he and the august man had been drinking together.

Della Street had handed Ken this bottle of red wine, just before he had left to travel to Denver Airport. Her eyes had glistened a little, urging him to do what she told him to, while her voice sounded unconvincingly crisp and clean. " Share this with him, Ken, one night, when you both need it. "

He hadn't exactly understood what she said, hadn't really paid attention to be honest, just still being amazed that she didn't come and travel to Paris with them.

And wasn't bringing a bottle of wine into Paris the same as carrying water to the sea ?

Those were Perry Mason's exact words, before he took the bottle out of Ken Malansky's hands, and read the label, just a few hours ago. Before he had told Ken a story, consisting of just four words, basically.

As astounded as Ken had been at the remarkable admission, he had tried to hide it and had tried not to let Perry know that he hadn't known. Hadn't known about the marriage, and therefore, hadn't known about the divorce.

_And so, we divorced. _

Four words.

These four words had immediately changed Kenneth Malansky's perspective on the man and the woman he had worked closest with for almost two years now. That man and woman knowing about his worst fears and doubts, his abilities, his clumsiness, his dreams. And now, he strongly felt he also knew about theirs.

_And so, we divorced._

The reason why the only lady in the life of the larger than life Perry Mason wasn't here. She was on the other side of this earth, still trying to come to terms with something she couldn't grasp.

A lot of the last day's occurrences fell into place.

Instigated by the wine maybe, or not, the lawyer that he was started to ask questions automatically. How long had they been married, was it a secret marriage, and were they married now, again?

And what if they weren't?

Disconcerted as a child in a department store without his parents, he looked around and decided to say the words out loud, to see, feel, hear, if they made sense that way. " And so, we divorced. " His voice made the sentence sound hollow and flat, emotionless, yet it bounced against the wall of the large hotel suite, and hit him upon return. The meaning of the words caught his breath, a second before he felt a heavy despair. If, of all people, Perry Mason, _Perry Mason_ and Della Street couldn't make it work, then how the Hell would he ever be able to have a married life and succeed ?

Kenneth Malansky swallowed hard, while he shook the bottle to make the last drops fall into the wine glass. Perry had told him that the special round form of this glass was supposed to facilitate the extravagant aroma of this special wine and accomodate its taste. To Ken, it was just a glass, a practical device to be able to dispatch alcohol. Maybe someday he'd learn to appreciate life's fringe benefits. But not now.

_And so, we divorced._

He stood up. He was sure he was going to hear the echo of these words in court tomorrow. So far the onerous sessions of the Berman case were unusually emotional because of both acknowledged as well as unacknowledged links with the abhorrences of World War II.

Stumbling while on his way towards his own hotel room, he heard Perry's low rumbling voice, softly speaking to no one in his room. By the intonation Ken could tell Perry was on the telephone with a lady who was at eight hours distance from here.

Ken stood still, listening.

Perry laughed.

Ken dared to smile at the reassuring sensation that was caused by this familair conversational sound. Maybe things weren't that bad after all. He brushed his fingers against the closed door to Perry's room as if the gesture could bring him closer to the two people he had come to admire in the past two years.

He had trouble deciding whether he admired them more or less now that he knew about this particular piece of their past.

He knew he didn't have enough facts to thoroughly form a proper opinion.

But he also knew he'd never think the same about marriage again.

- TBC -

_AN: This story is the result of a challenge I've taken up (a nice enough one, considering I'm even posting this with two other stories 'going on' ). It might come out slightly different than my other ones. _


	2. Chapter 1

_No unconfusing about the divorce here yet, or maybe? _

-** One** -

_A few days before they opened the wine: _

Eggs, vanilla, cinnamon.

Milk, bread, sugar.

It was a very difficult task to genuinely spoil Della Street. One had to know how and when to do what exactly. He grinned. He knew the recipe by heart.

He also knew, very fortunately, that just picking the right time and place weren't the only conditions to be succesful. His lady had to grant you the privilige to truly spoil her, she had to open up, willing to shed the limitations that were part of her everlasting courtesy and demureness. Otherwise she'd just decline or refuse whatever you offered her, or worse, she'd surprise _you_ with one of her own lovely presents or favors to blow _you_ away.

If you were able to really cosset her and make her smile, you knew she loved you. It was not the other way around.

Della Street was a complex woman with complex secrets.

He knew about them.

He was one of them.

Having unclosed the curtains, slowly, to enable the bedroom and all that was in it to adjust to the sun light raying over Denver, he sat down on the matress, next to her legs.

Her peachy-orange robe was thrown over the chair on his side of the bed. It had been there, in that identical way, for three days. If her fever hadn't dropped dramatically yesterday evening, he would have called the doctor to the house early this morning. But she had had a good, long night of thorough sleep. He had checked her temperature every hour, simply by placing the back of his fingers against her forehead, and when she had finally settled in his arms, her face feeling naturally cool on the skin of his chest without the ailing glow of the last few days, he'd known she was recovering.

" Della … " This voice was usually too soft to wake her up, but she did, fluttering her lashes in the way he'd consider killing for. " Honey … "

The lady languidly, leisurely, stretched herself out, and inhaled, moaning that sleepy moan he missed most at the rare times he was waking up alone, voluntarily or unvoluntarily.

" Did you say 'honey' ? " The creamy voice sounded as sweet as the treat he had prepared for her. In the silence he left for her to awaken fully, she inhaled again and sniffed. " It smells more like … French toast … "

Her eyes popped open. "_ Is it_ French toast? " Propping herself up on her elbows in the most charming way possible, she gasped.

" That it is, my lady. " He blinked sweetly, but she didn't register it.

" Oh, my … " She wiggled backwards and sat up straight, reaching out for the tray in his hands. " That's a long time ago … "

Unelegantly, because he simply had no other way, he handed her the tray with her breakfast and moved to cushion the pillows behind her.

" I used to prepare French toast for you, when … "

" … I had my periods. " She nodded, thoughtfully. " That _is_ a long time ago, dear. "

But he remembered. She never told him, she just pulled back from him for a few days every four weeks, making him wonder until one day he became aware and swore at his masculine ignorance. And that was when he started making French toast for her, once a month.

She moaned softly, chewing stylishly. " Oh, they're divine, Perry. I thought you didn't even know how to make these anymore. I'd almost forgotten about them myself. "

" I thought you could use the extra calories. You've been losing weight, my dear. "

" It was just a flu, Perry. "

" Della, in the last five years, you've never been out of the office for three whole days in a row. " He took her small hand and squeezed it. " You even had Ken worried. Now, that is difficult. "

" Thank you for spoiling me. " She leaned forward and kissed his lips sweetly, and again, and again. " I love you. "

" I love you too, baby. "

" Don't you want some? "

" No, I already had breakfast early this morning, and I have a long lunch awaiting. "

" Oh, yes. You have to fly into … "

" … San Francisco. " He nodded while finishing her sentence, raising his hand to stop her from saying what she was going to say. " It's all been taken care of. Ken will accompany me to the Judges' lunch meeting, and he'll fly back to Denver right afterwards. "

" Oh, he must be so thrilled you're taking him with you."

" He is. " Perry grinned broadely. " He considers it an honour, and I believe it is. And it's so good for his career to shake hands and meet with some of the judicial behemoths of the Appellate Bench. He might end up there some day. "

A short pain-filled grimace shadowed the contented expression of her flushed beauty as her hands abandonned the plate on her lap, and reached out for his face. " He might … " The softness of her voice matched the softness of the palms and fingers that were caressing the etched skin of his face.

He leaned onto the matress on one hand, and mirrored her gestures, stroking her cheeks with the other.

" Will he… " She started.

" The flight back is only two hours, Della. Ken will be on time for the deposition. " He kissed her.

" It starts at five, Perry. "

He kissed her again.

" We know that. He'll be back in time. We've been very actively handling the schedules in your absence, Miss. "

" So, Ken will fly back here and you … "

" … and then I will stay there and visit Helen Berman in the hospital. "

She coughed shortly, elegantly, behind her hand. " Oh, I'm just so sorry I can't come with you to visit her. I would have loved to see her again. It's such a long time ago, must have been three years … "

" She said it was urgent. " He checked his watch and leaned forward again. Smooching a trail that started at her forehead and ended at her sweet lips, he lingered and moaned. " I love you. "

" You'd better get going. " She whispered.

" I'd better. " He stood up.

He watched her settle back against the pillows, closing her eyes, sighing. He crinkled his nose, closing the door behind him with a soft click.

_- TBC - _

_Thanks to OldEnglishD who 1) allowed me to borrow her waffles from her story TCOT Pretty Stones 2) allowed me to transform the waffles into French toast, more appropriate for this story and 3) for beta'ing my stories, her attempts to improve my English writing and creativity. _


End file.
